


Just Relax

by CastielsCarma



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel is a Little Shit, Dean just wants to go on holiday, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, TSA Employee Castiel, confused!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 01:33:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15984755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielsCarma/pseuds/CastielsCarma
Summary: Dean Winchester is less then thrilled to take the flight to see his friend Charlie. Charlie he loves, airplanes not so much. When a pat-down goes private with TSA-agent Castiel Dean is left feeling... a whole lot.





	Just Relax

**Author's Note:**

> (This piece was inspired by Misha Collins playing a TSA-agent. We all know who should have played the other guy ; ))  
> Thanks for reading! Leave kudos and don't shy away from commenting.
> 
> Thank you to TheReluctantShipper for editing help!

Airplanes, who the fuck needed them anyway? Dean Winchester grimaced at the thought and moved closer to the gray arches in front of him. Soon he would pass the security check, hop on the metal bird of death and in a few hours he would reach his destination. He glanced behind him and saw Ellie, a girl he had talked to while waiting, give him a wave. Dean flashed her what he knew was a sexy smile. It always worked. As he turned back a female guard waved him closer. Dean adjusted his plaid shirt and ground his teeth. He was calm and collected. A deep exhale and everything was alright. 

Planes were unnatural. Getting on board a plane was a sure way to get yourself killed. The space was small. You were forced to inhale other people's bodily odor. Leg cramps were a bitch. You had to sit next to some old withered lady explaining the finer points of mahjong for several hours. The sad excuse they called pie was inedible. 

If people were meant to fly they would have wings and he sure as hell hadn't seen any angels flapping around. He would be fine was a litany he repeated until his racing heart calmed down. He took another step forward. Dean wiped his hands on his pants. Was is really that hard to fix the air conditioning in this place? The moisture in the air made his hands all clammy.

“Sir, please step forward. Shoes off! Hurry up people!” Dean arched an eyebrow but when the guard just kept glaring at him, he sighed and took his boots off. He tossed them at the conveyor belt but as he was to take another step the guard interrupted.

“Take off the belt too, sir.”

Dean looked at her, and glanced at all the people milling around him. He was no fucking Chippendale!  
“Ma'am look, I'd rather not...”

Dean didn't get a change to finish his sentence before the guard screamed at the top of her lungs.  
“We have an opt-out! Male assist!”

Dean tried futilely to object that he definitely didn't need a male assist but his pleas went unnoticed. The female guard had already turned her back on him and was assisting another passenger. A second guard came through security with the TSA emblem on his shoulder. He had an impassive face with bright blue eyes and tousled black hair that screamed casual but probably took atleast half an hour to get ready. He unclasped the security rope and waved Dean through. He motioned for Dean to stand on a spot on the floor with painted yellow feet; the paint was worn down by people's shoes treading there over the years.

“I'm going to give you a pat down. I will let you know beforehand where I will touch you and I will use the back of my hand for all sensitive areas”. The guard raised his black gloved hands.

Dean looked at him and licked his lips. “What do you mean...sensitive areas, officer? ”

The guard answered, ignoring Dean's hesitation. “Under the arms, your inner thighs, under your waist band...” As an afterthought he added: “And I will need you to unbuckle that belt for me.” The guard stared right into Dean's eyes, not even blinking. That intense gaze was unsettling.

Dean scoffed at the guard and used that as an excuse to cast down his eyes. He let his eyes wander to the name badge pinned to the guard's dark blue shirt. Castiel was not a name he had ever seen or even heard of before. Dean tried not to glare at this Castiel guy. Not only did he have to deal with fucking planes, he had to deal with intrusive guards too. 

“Look, no one is putting their hands down my pants.” To emphasize his point Dean crossed his arms.

“This will go faster if you do as you are told.” Castiel replied, an edge of steel in his voice.

Dean bristled at the tone and what he was sure of was a small smile tugging at Castiel's lips. “Look, I'm not going to stand here and let some dude feel me up in the middle of the airport.” 

“Private pat down!” Castiel shouted to no one in particular and turned to walk away. He passed Dean and didn't look back. “Follow me.”

Dean saw Ellie look at him with a confused expression. He just shrugged and gave her his everything is under control – smile. He really didn't need this shit right now. Dean grabbed his boots and followed Castiel around the corner as he opened a door with a sign that said “Secure Area”. Dean entered the little room; he was the only one there.

“Sit down," Castiel said, closed the door behind Dean and left.

Next time Dean had any thought whatsoever about vacation, or coast cities or above all, airplanes or airports or anything even containing the word air he would just shoot himself. Or punch Charlie for suggesting this trip. Easy for her to suggest “a really super speedy, you won't notice you are gone until you are back-trip” when she didn't have to take a plane anywhere as she lived 15 minutes from Fort Lauderdale. 

Well, he wouldn't punch Charlie. He would just go to Bobby's scrap yard and use that old sledge-hammer he had. Fuck. Dean rubbed his hand over his face. What if he missed this plane and had to take the next one? He rather spend time alone at the morgue then be in airports more than necessary.

He glanced around the room. It was small, with gray walls and frankly looked like a forgotten storage room. There were numerous chairs lazily resting against the back wall. A speaker was announcing some TSA- security crap Dean wasn't really paying any attention to. Bright lamps from the ceiling drenched the place in an unnatural light that almost made Dean squint. A narrow desk with two chairs- one plastic, the other wooden and cushioned- were placed on his left side. Two small lamps were hanging from the wall. In the corner Dean spotted a small rickety cabinet. Another black chair was standing in the middle of the room, so Dean sat down and waited. The room suddenly went dark.

Dean heard someone open the door and enter. The door closed with a soft thud. Lights were on again, but not the bright industrial ones; the light cast by the wall lamps were softer and not harsh at all. Castiel looked at Dean and then casually walked over to the small cabinet. 

“Is the temperature good? I can turn up the heat if you'd like.” 

Dean glanced at the door. “No, the temperature is alright. Is this going to take long, officer?”

Castiel smiled. “No. You don't need to call me officer. Sir will do just fine. And I think whiskey, yes?”

Dean looked at the guard with what he hoped was a neutral expression. What the fuck was going on? He had never had a private pat down before but he was pretty sure this was not standard protocol. On the other hand free whiskey might help him calm his nerves for the plane ride. 

“Sure,” Dean said and was greeted with silence and Castiel holding up an empty glass, looking at Dean with blue eyes gleaming expectantly. Dean swallowed down his irritation and ignored the odd flash of adrenaline that coursed through his body. “Sure, sir. Thanks.” 

Castiel turned and Dean could hear the amber liquid being poured into a glass. 

“So, what brings you here? Business or pleasure?”

Dean was about to roll his eyes and say: You, smart-ass, you brought me here. He figured that was not a good way to act towards a law enforcement agent, though. He was unsure about that last thought. Was the TSA even considered law enforcement? What did TSA even stand for? Traffic security agency, testy shit-ass agent, troublesome sexy asshole? God, the chair was crazy uncomfortable. Dean adjusted himself on the seat as Castiel walked over to him.

“Nah, no business. I'm heading to Fort Lauderdale. Meeting my friend Charlie there. Party, booze and good food. The usual you know. Sir.” 

Castiel extended his hand and Dean grabbed the glass and swiped half of it down. It burned pleasantly. Fuck, he wished he could down the bottle instead, that would keep him calm and collected. Castiel patted him briefly on the shoulders, the hand lingering for a second.

He made an appreciative sound. “Someone works out”. He proceeded to grab a pair of new latex gloves from his pocket and slipped them on.

Dean snorted. “Yeah if you call working on a ranch work out, offic...Sir. We do most of the work old-school style. No machines around to do the lifting.” He licked his lips. “What has this got to do with security - “ 

“I am asking the questions here”. Castiel's eyes narrowed, as if waiting for Dean to argue. 

Dean felt a small trickle of heat bloom in his stomach and pushed the feeling down. He really wanted to say something back but he had no doubt in his mind that Castiel, the fucker would keep him in this room longer, just out of spite. He cleared his throat. Castiel just stared at him, but Dean couldn't shake off the weird feeling that Castiel was very pleased with him.

“Fort Lauderdale,” Castiel continued as if he did this every day, “I haven't been there since I was in college. Those were good times. So how is it working on a ranch? I must imagine you have a big family, taking care of a place like that?” Castiel turned his back on Dean and grabbed the cushioned chair against the wall. He placed it opposite of Dean and sat down. Their knees were almost touching. 

“Just me and my brother Sammy, sir. We were close growing up, still are. Dad was also there but he wasn't much of a help. It was basically us versus him. ” Dean clamped his mouth shout. Why the hell was he talking about that? He took another swig at the glass and emptied it. Castiel's hand touched Dean's knee, just a light whisper. Dean felt that heat in his stomach shoot straight down. 

“You against him? And why was that?” Castiel got up and grabbed a small bottle in the corner. He poured the whiskey in Dean's glass and left the empty bottle on the desk. 

“Woah, that's a lot of whiskey, sir.” Dean swallowed and peered down into the glass, trying very hard not to break it. He took another sip as he saw Castiel from the corner of his eye. “Dad was a bastard. He clung to his bottle. He would be away for hours, sir, leaving me and Sam to do all the work. Then he'd stumble home, fists swinging.”

Dean heard Castiel's voice coming from behind. “I bet that was hard on you both. You were just kids.”

“Yes, sir. I mean...” Dean hesitated. “Sam was my younger brother, and we really didn't have anyone else. Mom was gone. Passed when I was little. It was just us.”

Castiel's hand landed on Dean's shoulders, a firm pressure and then he patted the same area. The touch startled Dean and his heart rate speed up. The whiskey, good as it was, the ambient lights, the heat that would not dissipate; it was just too much for him.

“We done here, sir?” He could feel Castiel's hands go lower down his back and spread out.

“We are done when I say we are.” Dean could feel Castiel's breath on his neck, and coupled with the tone of his voice; it sent shivers down his spine. His cock hardened. Fucking hell. He felt a whirl of emotions pass through him; confusion, anger, sadness, and through it all, a blazing heat of desire. 

He could feel his whole body vibrate and was surprised that he hadn't started to shake like some lame ass wind up-toy kids used to play with. Or those concrete drills, jack hammers.

Castiel inhaled deeply and let out a soft sigh. “Can I ask what you are wearing?” His hands trailed down and just skimmed over his ass, professional and quick, and then they went back up again. “What kind of cologne is that?”

“Oh that is not a cologne, just Axe... you know, the Axe-effect, sir?” 

Castiel just hummed and tapped his hands lightly on Dean's arms until he spread them out.  
“A very subtle hint. I like it.” 

Dean didn't know what to say so he remained silent. It felt like a life time ago he had stood in the line going through security. With practiced hands Castiel patted him down, from his shoulders, down to his elbows, wrists and gently touched his hands. Suddenly Dean felt hands under his arms, pulling him up.

“Stand up”, Castiel said with a firm voice. He walked around Dean, facing him again. “You were saying about your dad...” Castiel's arm touched Dean's stomach and then his leg went in between Dean's, urging them to spread out. The heat of Castiel's body was like a furnace against Dean. 

Dean dug his nails into his free hand and did as he was told, widening his stance. It did nothing to abate the heat coursing through his body. He had a difficult time figuring out if the warmth was due to this sudden and overwhelming lust that had claimed him or something else. Maybe there had been some kind of freaky drug in that whiskey. Maybe he enjoyed this, whatever the hell this was. Dean pushed the thought down. The air conditioner was doing a crappy job of keeping things cool, that was all. 

Castiel backed away just a fraction, pulling away the chair. He was still holding his blue gaze on Dean when he knelt. “I'm going to scan your legs now.” Castiel waited for a few seconds and there was a sudden hint of steel in those ocean blue eyes.

“Okay, sir”, Dean answered hesitantly and Castiel flashed a smile so fast that Dean was unsure if it had been there at all. Fingers traveled from the bottom of Dean's legs, slowly meandering upwards. He felt goose bumps on his arms, and his heart was pounding so hard he was surprised that Castiel didn't hear it.

“So yeah, my dad, I used to piss the old man off, let him take out all his anger on me so he was worn out...” Dean's voice trailed off. He really needed to shut up about his old man. That was dead and done, a thing of the past. 

Castiel's hands skimmed between his legs. Dean's cock felt like it was going to burst through his pants. Finally Castiel rose again. “Wore out? “

“Yeah, wore out”, Dean repeated. Castiel took another step towards Dean, his body leaning in close to him. Dean could feel Castiel's body heat wrap around him and he was anchored in place by the sheer presence of Castiel, a force urging him not to move.

“Let me get your buttocks.” Castiel put his hands on Dean's ass, squeezing hard and then trailing up again with ghosts fingers.

“Yeah, I took all the punches. So when old dad came to Sammy he would be too exhausted you know and just go to sleep instead. I got fucked up so many times. Busted lips, bruised rib, black eyes and shit, but at least Sammy was safe.” Dean didn't let his mind wander to some of his darker memories.

Castiel rose up slowly from his crouching position, his hands trailing up Dean's back. His sapphire eyes shone with sympathy. “He was safe because of you. You did good.” Castiel paused for a moment and then added, “I'm going to pat down your chest now.”

Dean nodded slightly, his body humming in anticipation. It was like Castiel was leaving a trail of fire on his skin wherever he touched him. He remembered having conflicting thoughts about what the fuck was going on, but now he didn't even care. Dean was acting like a needy fan girl meeting Bob Plant for the first time and he wasn't even ashamed. Although this Castiel guy sure beat Plant in the intensity-department.

“Yeah, he is doing good now though. He is an assistant manager at the local store.” 

Castiel's hands trailed down, lower and lower but his gaze was steadily locked on Dean. He raised an eyebrow looking at Dean, waiting.

“Sir,” Dean managed to whisper and then bit the inside of his cheek, stifling a moan that was threatening to escape. Jesus Christ! Castiel's hands were on Dean's belt buckle, resting there.

“Mm that's good," Castiel mused, eyes still on Dean. “You must be so proud." Castiel unbuckled Dean's belt and yanked Dean close to him. 

“Yeah, he has a family of his own now." Dean felt the rest of his thoughts trail away into nothingness. He even had difficulty remembering how he'd ended up in this room in the first place. He swallowed hard. Castiel's chest rose smoothly up and down, pressed into his. How Dean hadn't spontaneously combusted by now was beyond him. This was probably how all those chicks in romance movies felt like; swept of their feet, touched by Cupid or some shit like that.

“I'm going to put two fingers into your waistband. Just relax. I will move real slow." Castiel took two fingers and shoved them down inside Dean's pants, just below his waistband. He said nothing else, just looked at Dean as he moved his fingers.

Dean's heart hammered in his chest and he tried to breathe slowly. His cock was so hard, and in a few seconds he was going to feel Castiel's fingers on him and he knew it was going to be pure fucking heaven. He wanted to say yeah, but nothing came out, not a sir, not even a whisper. 

Castiel leaned in, even closer towards him and Dean opened his mouth slightly, closing his eyes at the same time. Dean could almost hear Castiel's heart beating. This was a slow, steady rhythm, almost insultingly so; nothing like Dean's beat of little hummingbirds trying frantically to escape their prison.

He just needed to be kissed right that instant. A ghost of a breath whispered over Dean's mouth and then suddenly Castiel yanked his fingers away.

“All clear!” Castiel shouted and stepped away from Dean. The bright glare from lamps in the ceiling getting turned on again made Dean blink in confusion. Castiel took off his gloves and casually tossed them in a trash can. He looked at Dean, cool as a fucking cucumber. His eyes trailed from Dean's feet, pausing knowingly at Dean's crotch and then all the way up, meeting Dean's green, bewildered eyes looking back at him.

There was a thin smile playing on Castiel's lips. 

“Have a safe flight... Sir”. Castiel grinned and then his face went impassive. He turned and left the room. 

Dean exhaled sharply through his nose, trying to calm himself and will down his erection. What the ever-living fuck was that? One thing was sure though, he still hated airplanes and airports, TSA-agents maybe not so much.


End file.
